“Then we shall see him burnt in effigy yet,” remarked De Périgny with satisfaction.
“Ma foi, that would be something to live for!” exclaimed Louis de Chantemerle. “We will all go and dance round the pile.”
“Too late, Messieurs,” interposed a fourth young man, stopping as he passed. “I have just come through the Palais-Royal, and there was M. Marie-Jean-Paul-Roch-Yves-Gilbert du Mottier blazing away merrily in the middle of the garden.”
“I suspect your cousin does not share your views on bonfires, Saint-Ermay,” put in D’Aubeville quietly. “Look at old Du Mesnou’s long face; M. de Château-Foix is probably telling him that he considers Lafayette the one man who could have saved us.”
“My cousin,” said the Vicomte ruefully, “has the misfortune to possess the same Christian name as General Morpheus—a fact of which you have just reminded me, M. de Monroux. Perhaps that accounts for it.”
“Honneur à Lafayette,
Mironton, mironton, mirontaine,”
hummed the Comte de Périgny, and continued:
“Sa tête est toujours nette
Car il ne pense à rien;